


Once You Go...

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-02
Updated: 2006-12-02
Packaged: 2019-05-31 10:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15117266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: Sam didn't want to leave; he wanted to be wrapped in that sheet with her.





	Once You Go...

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes: What's funny is I came up with the original character first and loved her so much I felt she had to be infused in this universe. So here, I venture into my first real writings about Sam, a character I adore but was never quite sure I could find his voice. I hope I do him justice and let him have some much-needed fun.  


* * *

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Look…”

“It’s a couple of photos and a blurb. It will be no more than two pages. Our numbers could be better and the President is willing to use your inherent sexiness to make that happen.”

“This was the President’s idea?”

“Actually, Cassie Hamilton from George called CJ and she took it to Leo.”

“Why didn’t she come to me?” Sam asked.

“Gee, I really don’t know.” Josh’s tone was sarcastic. “Look Sam, they don’t want you to pose in your underwear…it’s a political magazine. This will be good for everyone involved.”

“Except for me.”

“I can live with that.”

“Obviously.”

“The photo shoot is…”

“Oh God, don't call it that.”

“Now you're having semantic problems.”

“Photo shoots are for Cindy Crawford and Elle McPherson. We’ll just call it…oh hell there is nothing else to call it. When is it?”

“Friday at dusk. The photographer wants to take some shots at the Lincoln Memorial as the sun goes down and maybe here at your office. Don’t even think about cleaning; we want you to look swamped.”

“I am swamped.” Sam replied.

“Exactly. Then you have brunch with Cassie on Saturday. You're going to meet her at the DuPont. Sunday it’s to the studio for the cover shoot.”

“I'm going to be on the cover?” Sam put his face in his hands. “This could not get any worse. Please tell me it doesn’t get any worse…I need something to cling to.”

“Well, you're also going to Ben and Sally’s tomorrow night.” Josh replied.

“Not if I go out and play in traffic tonight. Why me?”

“Scott Grafton is going to be there and you two have history. Leo wants you to talk to him about some legislation Senator Loggins of Missouri wants to introduce about gun safety locks.”

“And he will be at Ben and Sally’s?”

“He’s a philanthropist; guns are not his only concern. He sits on many boards.”

Sam didn’t think Sally liked him much though she was a perfectly pleasant woman. He always seemed to say something inane in her presence…it was one of his many nervous conditions. Not to mention it was at one of her parties that Sam had the now infamous pickup of Jenny McGarry. That was a big fiasco that Sam wished could be stricken from his permanent record.

“Fine, I’ll go. You owe me.”

“Its Leo and CJ who owe you. I am just the messenger.”

“Why do I find that doubtful? The photo shoot has Josh Lyman practical joke written all over it.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Josh could hardly keep the smirk from his face.

“Whatever. You’ll pay for this.”

Josh started to laugh, leaving the Deputy Communications Director’s office. Sam shook his head, going back to his load of paperwork.

***

Sam stood nervously by the wall in Ben and Sally’s large Glover Park sitting room. He’d been there for an hour and had yet to see Scott Grafton. Ben walked over wearing his usual jovial smile. He was much easier to talk to than his wife was. This was probably because he was a man. Sam could talk until he was blue in the face with a man or a group of men. Politics, literature, sports; nothing was too much. With women, he was tongue-tied, dumb all of a sudden, and nothing came out right. Laurie was one of the first women he felt different with but that was never going to happen.

“How’s it going Sam?” Ben asked.

“Good. I was hoping to chat with one of your guests tonight but he has opted not to show.”

“I didn’t think Leo sent you for the stellar appetizers. Still, you should mingle; stop hiding in the corner like the Elephant Man.”

“The Elephant Man?”

“It’s all I could come up with on the slide.”

Sam smiled, and his eyes connected with a woman across the room. She stood by the fireplace chatting amiably with two women. She smiled at him as she went back to her conversation.

“I’ll definitely mingle.” Sam replied, his voice sounded as if it came from a distance. 

“Good.” Ben patted his back. “Salvage the evening.”

Sam asked Ben if he knew the woman in the sparkling silver top. Ben thought she looked familiar, maybe from one of Sally’s art groups.

“She certainly is pretty.”

“You're married.” Sam replied.

“And happily so. The beauty of it is a man does not go blind upon placing a ring on his finger.”

Sam watched as she made her way from her friends to the bar in the corner. He decided to follow, but had no idea what he was going to say. Sam quickly finished his drink to have an excuse.

“Hello.”

She turned and smiled. Her smile was pleasant and made her face glow. She wore the silver top with a black skirt and black high heels that looked painful. Her dark brown hair was pulled up and her brown skin had a golden glow as if kissed by the sun. It made Sam want to touch her.

“Hi there.” She said. “How are you?”

“OK, um…”

“Tish.” She held out her hand.

“Tish?” Sam shook the delicate hand with the firm grip.

“Like Trish, without the ‘r’. And you…”

“Sam, no witticism to follow.”

“Oh damn.” She smiled, and took the martini from the bartender. Sam asked for another screwdriver. “I was not under the impression this was a political party.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You're Sam Seaborn, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded though he seemed embarrassed by who he was.

“People were talking about you. Don’t worry; all the news was good. Are you a patron of the arts?”

“No. I planned to meet someone here but he didn’t make it. Are you an artist?”

“Sort of, but Callie invited me. We went to Northwestern together.”

Callie was the oldest of Ben and Sally’s three children.

“Good school. What did you study?”

“Double major in critical theory and social policy.”

“That’s perfect to get your foot in any door in this town.”

“You sound like my father. I prefer a more laidback atmosphere. Politics is not good for the blood pressure.”

“I work out.” Sam declared.

“That’s obvious.” Tish sipped her martini.

“I meant to stay healthy. Are you well versed in politics?”

“More than I ever need to be Sam. Will you join me on the portico for a cigarette?”

“Sure.”

It was a balmy mid-August night but there was rain in the air. They sat, drinking and having topical conversation.

“I know what its like to be stood up.” She said.

“Who in their right mind would ever do that to you?”

“Callie.” She smiled that smile again. “She was supposed to be here tonight but ditched for a date with a bass player in a Doobie Brothers cover band.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. I'm not bitter though; I can bail out early and relax in my pajamas.”

Sam did not want to think about her in her pajamas. He tried to imagine his 10th grade chemistry teacher to quell the visions in his head.

***

OK, so Sam was not one to have one-night stands, though this was his second in as many months. They talked for a while at the party and he accepted Tish’s coffee invitation. On the Cosi on 17th and K, there was a two-hour conversation about any and everything. Tish mostly wanted to talk about art and Sam wanted to listen. He did not mean to end up back at her Georgetown apartment as the rain came down, but regret was not a word he was prepared to use in reference to the event.

Tish was soft, and she smelled amazing. Sam liked the way she sighed when he touched her. She preferred to be on top and that did not bother him at all. She lit candles in the bedroom and put Sarah Brightman on the CD player. When it was over, for the second time, he found out she liked to kiss. They must have lip-locked for at least another half hour but Sam was not going to complain.

“Tell me what you do for a living.” Sam said. “It didn’t come up at all tonight.” He had to make sure he was not making the same mistake twice.

“I'm an artist. You didn’t see the wall. Of course you didn’t, it’s a bit dark in here.”

Tish turned on the bedside lamp. She wrapped herself in the sheet and walked over to the wall leading to the bathroom. It was completely covered in photographs.

“I took these over the past two decades. I was watching Trading Spaces and saw them cover a whole living room wall. I'm also working on a glass coffee table and a bar for the living room. Crafts are a hobby of mine.”

“That’s terrific. Wow that must have taken some time.”

“One rainy Sunday.” Tish said, smiling and climbing back in the bed. Sam kissed her.

“I just want to let you know that I am not the hit and run type.”

“He says as he rushes to dress and get the hell out of dodge.”

“I have to be to work very early tomorrow morning. Well, every morning really.”

“That’s understandable.”

She watched as he dressed; the gym had definitely been his friend. Sinewy arms and legs with muscular thighs. He had a terrific chest and an even nicer back. Tish wondered if he waxed his chest…there was not a hair in sight. His ass was tighter than his abs but not unattractively so. Nothing was unattractive on Sam Seaborn.

“I can't find my tie.” Sam said. He got on his knees to look under the bed but didn’t see it.

“Well, that should get you back here sometime in the future.”

She walked him to the door still wrapped in the sheet. Sam didn't really want to leave; he wanted to be wrapped in that sheet with her.

“Goodnight Sam.” She gave him a final kiss.

“Goodnight. Don’t forget to blow out all the candles.”

“Yes sir.” She saluted and swatted his butt as he walked out.

Sam was halfway down the block when he stopped caring that he was being drenched and realized he had not asked for her phone number. Berating himself, Sam hailed a cab on the corner. Going back was not an option, but now she would think he was only after one thing. How could he be so forgetful…he wanted to see her again. What was he supposed to do, ask around? Yeah, DC resembled a high school but it wasn’t one. That was improbable. Well, he did know where she lived. Perhaps he could summon up the courage to drop in. How did he not even know her last name? All the conversation they had tonight and he did not remember it being mentioned once. She knew his, but everyone did so it didn’t count.

***

“Sam?”

“What!”

They spoke at almost the same time as CJ snapped her fingers in front of his face. His blue eyes came back into focus.

“You aren’t listening to me at all.” She said.

“That’s not true.”

“What was the last thing I said?”

“I didn’t know there was going to be a pop quiz. I can admit to not hearing every word. I will not go so far as to say I was not listening.”

“Whatever. What's going on with you?” CJ sat down in one of his chairs and crossed her legs. “You’ve been distracted for days and I'm not the only one who noticed. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I'm a bit nervous about this whole George thing…I am not a cover model.”

“You look like one.”

“Don’t think I have not seen my fair share of ass-kickings because of this face. I want to be taken seriously CJ, not looked at as someone pretty and vacuous.”

“Welcome to a woman’s world.” She replied. “We are doing this for the President. No one is trying to single you out or make you feel silly.”

“I know. I met a woman.”

“Really? Hmm.”

“She’s pretty, she’s smart, and she’s funny. I didn’t ask for her phone number though we practically talked all night. I had one job to do and I failed.”

“It’s a small town Sam…you'll see her again.”

“I know where she lives.”

“Well I certainly won't ask how that came about.”

“I don’t think it is a good idea to just drop in on her, you know? I mean, I didn’t get her number but she didn’t offer it either. Maybe the whole time I thought I was great she thought I was insipid. I definitely want to see her again though. If only to find out if she thinks I'm a stumbling idiot. Wait, I can't believe I just told you all of that. Can we forget this conversation ever took place?”

“Forgetting.” CJ stood. “Look, you have to go to the photo shoot in an hour so try to cheer up. It will work itself out.”

“How often does that really happen?” Sam asked.

“Rarely, but if all else fails, go to her house. What's the worse that can happen?”

Sam had thought of a million nightmare scenarios to answer that question over the past few days. Maybe it was just supposed to be what it was and that was it. He needed to freshen up before this thing; he’d been at the White House since six this morning. The inventory of his dismal love life would have to wait.

***

When Sam showed up at the Memorial it was not quite dusk and there were people setting up equipment as well as the last of the tourist stragglers. Security was there to shut down the Memorial at six for the 45-minute shoot. Sam found someone who showed him where to go for makeup.

“Makeup?”

“Don’t worry Mr. Seaborn; it’s only to combat the glare of the lights and cameras. Peter Jennings wears it every night.”

Sam nodded, going over to the makeup artist, who set up a small table and chair to do his work. He sat down and took a deep breath.

“Is this your first photo shoot?” the makeup artist asked.

“Yeah. Do I look like a novice?”

“You just seem a bit nervous. There’s nothing to worry about sweetie; Tish will take good care of you.”

“I'm sorry, did you say Tish?”

“Tish McTiernan, she’s doing the shoot. She’s up and coming but moving fast. With good reason, she does excellent work and never fails to make her subject feel comfortable.”

“I'm sure.”

In a few minutes he was face to face with the photographer and her dazzling smile.

“Tish McTiernan.”

“Hello Sam Seaborn.”

“I need to tell you…”

“We can talk later. Dusk doesn’t last very long.”

The makeup artist was right, Tish made Sam feel very comfortable during his first photo shoot. She made him laugh and even took a few candid shots of him doing the cabbage patch dance. She grabbed a group of school kids who were being turned away by security and asked them to jump and cheer around Sam like he was a superhero; they were very cooperative and she gave them each one of the lollipops she had on the makeshift set. There were plenty of candid shots and a set of serious ones that would make the magazine.

“Fold your arms for me Sam; look stern and important.”

“What? Stern and important?”

“Just do it…you know you want to.”

He did the best he could and Tish snapped off a few photos.

“OK, we’re done. Take a load off folks.”

Sam took off the peacoat he was wearing, passing it off to a wardrobe assistant. It was warm and he was sweating a bit. Tish handed off the camera to her assistant and walked over to Sam.

“Sorry about the peacoat; I have an affinity for a man wearing one. It looked good on you.”

“Thanks. I wanted to call you.”

“What stopped you?”

“I never got your number. I didn’t want you to think…”

“Gimme your cell phone.” Tish held out her hand and Sam did as she asked. She pushed a few buttons, holding up the display for him to see. He smiled.

“It’s your phone number.”

“I put it in there but I guess you forgot. I can't blame you; it was pretty early in the morning. Sorry I didn’t tell you I would be here today but I didn’t find out who I was photographing until yesterday.”

“So, you're not angry at me?” Sam asked.

“For what? I don’t play those kinds of games Sam. You're a busy man and I am a busy woman. I figured you would call if you wanted to. I was giving you until the weekend.”

“Are you too busy to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. I'm going to New York City this weekend to get some Central Park photos before the weather turns too cold. I’ll be back on Sunday afternoon.”

“So how about dinner Sunday night?”

“OK.”

“Good” Sam smiled.

Tish squeezed his hand but their moment was interrupted by work. Tish had to leave and Sam figured he would go back to the White House to work for a few hours.

“Hey Seaborn!”

“Yeah?”

“How about your phone number. We don’t want another mishap.”

He took her cell phone and punched in the numbers.

“I’ll call you when I get back to town.” She kissed her fingers, pressing them gently on his cheek.”

“Bye Tish.”

“You're not going back to work are you?”

“No.” he shook his head.

“You're lying, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I just have a few things I want to get done.”

Tish knew she was dealing with a workaholic. Her father was in politics; she was well acquainted with the type. Wasn’t it said that girls sought out men who reminded them of their fathers?

“Get out of here. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

***


End file.
